light-blue shirt and clean jeans. His hair was brushed off his face, and he had shaved. The boys were also dressed in clean jeans and T-shirts. And like their father, each boy had his damp hair brushed back, showing a few freckles from the sun.
“The world is about to stop turning,” Margaret exclaimed while smiling at the boys. “It was hard enough getting those boys cleaned up for the wedding, and now they’re cleaned up again! Tonight must be for your benefit, Libby.”
“I didn’t realize I was such a big deal,” Libby said.
“Oh, you’re all right. Elaine has been a nervous Nellie since she invited you to the property this morning. Is the house clean enough? What food will she like? What should I wear? What will we do? Endless fretting.”
“Why fuss over me?”
Margaret shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her.”
The side door opened, and Colton, keeping Kelce and Sarge outside, hustled his two young sons into the kitchen. His gaze swept briefly over Libby, and she had the vague sense he liked what he saw.
Desire had once burned in Jeremy’s gaze, but the fires had dimmed with each miscarriage. Their sex had become mechanical as they had focused on making a baby, and when that had failed, his desire had turned to something that was less. It was as if he no longer saw her as a person, a woman, and he pitied her on some level. That pity was what drove her out of the house.
There was no sympathy in Colton’s gaze, and for a brief moment she remembered that it had been two years since she had been intimate.
“The dinner smells good,” he said, striding toward the stove. He kissed Margaret on the cheek. “Hope there’s enough to feed an army.”
“You and your two privates are the closest thing,” Margaret said.
The boys lingered close to their father, both staring up at Libby. The youngest boy was a replica of his father and had dark hair and thoughtful brown eyes. The older one was a shade fairer and had more freckles over the bridge of his nose.
“Libby, I’d like you to meet my boys,” Colton said. “Jeff is the older of the two, but Sam is only a year behind him.”
“I remember you two from the wedding,” she said, smiling. “You boys looked very handsome in your suits.” Like their father, they had worn dark-blue suits, white shirts, and no ties.
Colton coaxed Jeff forward with a gentle nudge. The boy extended his hand to Libby. “I’m Jeff. I’m seven.”
“He’s six,” Sam said.
Jeff shot his brother an angry look. “I’ll be seven in two weeks. Close enough.”
“You’re still six.”
She took Jeff’s hand, surprised by the strength of his grip. “I’m Libby McKenzie. Pleased to meet you.”
The younger boy, not to be ignored, elbowed his way past his brother. He put out his hand, waiting for Libby to shift her focus from his brother to him.
When she did, he grinned. “I’m Sam. I’m really five, and I’m in kindergarten.”
“Wow, that’s pretty big,” Libby said.
Jeff rolled his eyes. “I’m almost in second grade. That’s bigger.”
“It is not!” Sam said.
“It is too, dummy,” Jeff retorted.
“Watch the language,” Colton warned.
“Well, kindergarten is not bigger than second grade,” Jeff said.
Libby felt her nerves ease. “I think you both are very big for your ages. I would have thought you both were much older. Maybe fourth or fifth grade.”
The boys looked at each other. Jeff looked pleased. Sam scrunched his face as if to say, “There!”
“Libby brought wine,” Margaret said. “And there’s beer in the refrigerator.”
“I’ll grab a beer.” Colton moved to the new refrigerator. “Mom, how do you like all the fancy new equipment?”
“We’re still getting acquainted. So far, it’s giving me fits.”
He handed two sodas to the boys, allowing Jeff to open his own and try to open Sam’s. The little boy protested, insisting he could do it himself. Colton waited patiently, watching him struggle with the tab. When he tried to help, Sam refused. Colton left the boy to figure out the can and filled a bowl of water, which he set outside for the dogs. As he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator for himself, Sam held out the can to him.
“Dad, it’s broken,” Sam moaned.
Colton set down his beer and popped the top on the soda and then his beer. “Here, buddy.” He turned to Libby. “Mom has been fighting the old kitchen for years. The burners always needed repair, the old freezer was temperamental, and it’s a miracle the house